


Untitled (without airconditioning)

by shihadchick



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-23
Updated: 2010-07-23
Packaged: 2017-10-10 18:19:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/102686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shihadchick/pseuds/shihadchick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney doesn't adapt so well to the heat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled (without airconditioning)

  
* * *

The first time Rodney spends ten solid minutes bitching about the heat and how his finely tuned Canadian sensibilities should not be expected to put up with these conditions, John just rolls his eyes and bitches right back, complete with damningly accurate meterological data from a summer in Toronto which had proven to him that - no matter what Rodney may be claiming in extremis - Canada does, in fact, have weather that doesn't involve snow.

The second time John only catches the tail-end of, alerted by a radio call from Zelenka demanding that he, Colonel Sheppard, Do Something, on the pain of his, Radek's, ingenuity. He pokes his head in through the lab door just long enough to ascertain that Rodney is still in full flight, and tosses a balled-up wet towel at him, a sweet shot that nails him right in the back of the head. Rodney probably sputtered indignantly at that, but John isn't stupid and is two transporters away inside of a minute, panting and sweating.

The third time he just sighs heavily before shoving one-handed at the small of Rodney's back, sending him wind-milling off the edge of the pier and into the ocean. Rodney comes up spluttering and cursing, although this time it's about the cold, so John is counting at least the change of subject as a win. He grins down at Rodney, complaining about high-handed military behaviour and false-pretences for drawing hard-working scientists out of their labs just to play juvenile tricks on them, before taking pity, going down on one knee to extend his hand to help haul him back up onto dry land. And Rodney merely applies malicious leverage and John tumbles head-first over his shoulder, hitting the water in an undignified splashing heap. It _is_ damn cold in there, and it feels so good after the stifling heat of the city that it seems the best idea in the world to launch himself right at Rodney, to grab at his shoulders and dive into the heat of his mouth, chasing after that contrast as intimately as he can. Rodney goes limp for a second under his hands, and then he's plastering himself around John in turn, hands tangling in the heavy soaked cloth of his shirt. The kiss doesn't break until they start sinking, bodies too close to tread water effectively, and Rodney over-compensates and kicks John hard in the shin before they flounder apart, breathless.

"You deserved that," Rodney says.

And, "we _could_ have done that on dry land."

And, "no, really, I hope you have bruises."

And he does. On his shin, and his arm, and a collection from hip to throat for good measure.

John's always adapted very well to hotter climates.

-end-


End file.
